


From the Lighthouse to the Lights

by safelikespringtime



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Fluff, Isolation, Jim is Toro's dad, Light Angst, Lighthouses, M/M, Minor Character Death (Mentioned), Toro is a little shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safelikespringtime/pseuds/safelikespringtime
Summary: Namor lives an isolated life, he's got his job and his cat and there's not much else he wants for himself. When a handsome stranger and his son seek shelter from a storm in his lighthouse, he realises that maybe there's more to life than he originally thought he wanted.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Thomas "Toro" Raymond, Jim Hammond/Namor the Sub-Mariner
Kudos: 7





	1. The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter is very short, kind've just an introduction or prologue than an actual chapter....next chapter will be longer and more interesting and all that, i promise :)

Winter was always the hardest. No tourists to occupy his time with, hardly any locals ever ventured west of the bay, the ground still too wet from the rains and rare but occasional snow to make the trek out to the lighthouse. The winter this year was long, the cold weather hitting in late October and still clinging to the trails now in late April, wind off the ocean more often than not nipping at the fingers with the threat of a late snow. Namor enjoyed the life he had, the solitude it brought, nobody expected much of him—except for his cat, Luna, who expects him to move mountains—for the most part he could do as he pleased when he pleased. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy being around people, but being able to live as he did, without the weight of the world crushing down on him, it was nice, it was peaceful. It was familiar. He’d lived in the lighthouse his whole life, his family running it since it was built back in the late 1800s. It had ceased operations when he was a boy, but he could still remember the days, all bright eyed and excited for the world, perched on his fathers shoulders as the watched the waves pound the rocks below.

The day had started with the sun streaming through the window, it had been warm, almost…but now the wind is roaring, echoing throughout the tower of the lighthouse so loud that if weren’t for the weight of his feet with each step, Namor wouldn’t be sure he’s even moving. Two steps at a time, he makes his way to the top window, peering out as the rain pours. Storms weren’t uncommon, hitting more often in the winter months than the summer, sometimes going for days, the seas below unforgiving, creating an island of the small cliff face his lighthouse stands. The spray of the ocean is masked by the pouring of the rain, the sound of the waves muted by the wind that continues to encompass his home. It’s been years since a storm had hit this strong, a stark contrast to that morning. Namor closes his eyes, allowing for a moment to just feel the rain on his skin, the wind strong enough to knock him over if he hadn’t spent a lifetime doing this.

He remembers the last time the rain had come this strong this fast. It was summer then…

***

The rain hit out of nowhere, the sky that had been bright blue not an hour ago now an angry grey. Namor, only six at the time, was sprawled on the floor by the window of their separate living quarters, his colouring book discarded to one side, crayons scattered across the floor. His body was turned, peering out at the lighthouse where his father and mother were no-doubt preparing the beacon and sending out weather updates.

Thunder crashed overhead, and Namor let out a loud yelp, scurrying across the room to hide under his blanket.

The door slammed open, and Namor’s eyes darted frightfully across the room to see his father rushing in, pale faced and in a clear rush, “Namor, I need you to do me a big favour okay, buddy? I need you to go into the tower and turn on the light, you remember how to do it?”

Namor nodded, “Why can’t you do it? Or mummy?”

“Mummy went down to the beach for a swim, she didn’t have a light and it’s very dark so I’m gonna go find her, okay? I need you to turn on the light and stay in the tower until we come back,” Leonard had said, before scooping up his son, closing up the house and dropping his son at the entrance to the lighthouse, disappearing into the dark of the day.

Namor watched from the window, the direction his father had disappeared, straining his eyes as lightning brightened the sky for only a moment, but a moment enough to watch the small silhouette of his father making his way into the tree line, and then a while later, out through the other side onto the sand at the beach. He watched with every flash of lightning as the waves crashed, the water at the river mouth rising and rising. His gaze turned from his father, out to the ocean, waves rising, unforgiving, crashing into one another. He wasn’t sure how he did, but even at his young age, he knew it at the time…his mother was out there, and he’d never see her again.

His father hadn’t returned that day, the water rising in a flash-flood, creating an island of their high rise. Namor didn’t sleep in a bed that night, didn’t cross the threshold from the tower to the house to find something to eat, just stood at the window, utilising every flash of lightning through the afternoon and late into the night to search for any sign of his parents.

A call came late the following afternoon to the satellite phone, and Namor, despite having received thousands of lectures from his parents about not answering it, pressed the answer button, lifting it to his ear with a panicked, “Dad?”

The water subsided the following day and Leonard returned to the lighthouse to break the news that he’d been unable to find Namor’s mother. They searched the ocean and surrounding islands for a week, and waited two months, each day passing with Namor staring out that window at the ocean, hoping, _wishing_ she would one day emerge, well, and happy. But she never did. They held a funeral, and a year later his father erected a memorial outside their house for her. A year later the lighthouse went out of service, used only as an emergency backup. Leonard had said it was because technology had advanced past the need, and while that was a partial truth everyone knew it was because operating the lighthouse had been something he’d shared so personally with Fen, and now she was gone it was hard to find the passion.

Namor continued to look out at the ocean up until and through his teen years, though there was no longer the hope that she would emerge, just the longing for a mothers touch, to see her smile again. Hear her voice again.

***

Namor squints out at the ocean, inhaling sharply as thunder cracks overhead, trying to ignore the way his body still rolls with fear at the childhood memory. He closes his eyes a moment grounding himself, before opening again as lightning once more brightens the sky. Movement to the left draws his eye, and he peers into the darkness that follows, waiting a minute before lightning flashes once more to outline two figures making their way out of the tree line. His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, all he does is stare, before registering that there were actually people out in that storm. Luna, who is curled at his feet, let’s out an annoyed hiss, but doesn’t move to strike him, as he pulls the window shut and darts back down the stairs to help.


	2. The Calm Before

“Pappy c’mon, it’s not _that_ big a hill,” Toro grins, adjusting his pack on his shoulders as he watches his father pause for the umpteenth time on the incline of their hike. “You’re tired now, imagine how you’re going to be tomorrow. Eight hours, remember? Eight hours north, with camping gear. A lot more water than we’re carrying with us now. Your old man body’s gonna—”

“Say another word about my age Thomas and see what comes of it,” Jim huffs, pushing himself past the steep incline to stand at the top with Toro. He exhales slowly as they reached the peak, gaze softening immediately, “Oh wow…”

“Is it as nice as you remember it being?” Toro asks, setting his pack down to pull his tripod out, getting to work setting it up for some photos.

Jim glances at his son, offering a crooked smile, “We never took this path when I was your age. This is all as new for me as it is for you,” he tells him softly, pursing his lips as he takes in the view from the lookout. To the north, south, and east was vast forestland, where no doubt more hikers were enjoying the somewhat warm weather of what had been an incredibly cold April. To the west was the coast, where they were planning to be tomorrow, “We can’t stay up here too late. Still gotta get back to the campsite before dark. Have an early morning tomorrow.”

“I know, I just wanna get some pictures in, this is my schooling, _and_ my income, old man,” Toro teases, nudging his father before turning to the camera, fiddling with a few of the settings.

Despite the comment on his age, a smile forms on Jim’s lips and he settles beside Toro, watching him as he gets to work. Toro was only sixteen, but he was already a hard worker, studying harder than Jim ever had in school, putting all his focus into the blossoming photography business. It hurt sometimes, seeing how much of his mother Toro had gotten…but overall he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the fact that Toro was passionate about something. He knew what he wanted from his life and Jim was going to continue to do his best to give him that.

It’s peaceful, and not for the first time this trip, Jim finds himself longing to move out here someday, get away from the noise of the city. But he has his friends, his family, his job. Toro has his school and friends and Bucky. He can’t do that to him. Can’t take him away from everything he’s ever known. He pulls out his phone, snapping a couple of photo’s of Toro to send to Bucky when they get service again, knowing his boy wouldn’t bother sharing their adventure himself.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, pulling Toro’s attention from the pictures he’s taking, a small smile on his face as he does so. “Take a selfie with me.”

“A selfie,” Toro deadpans, motioning to the camera to show other (and better) options, before moving to join his father. They turn with the sun and sea behind them and Jim snaps another photo, hugging his son tightly to his side before allowing him to return to the camera.

“I can set the timer and we can use this if you’d like for some better?”

Jim hums but nods, pocketing his phone to wait for Toro to set up the camera before joining him for a few timed photos, “Let me know when you’re ready to make the decline, we can’t stay much longer, yeah?” he reminds.

***

Dense trees block the sun as it rises the following morning, the sky dark as they pull into the check-in point. The weather is cool enough that there are only two other cars present, one of which belongs to the ranger. Jim steps out of the truck and walks around to sign off that they’re leaving the vehicle unattended. They have a long day ahead, and while the trek itself is only eight, maybe nine hours of walking, he’s promised Toro they can stop whenever he wants for as long as he wants to take photos, so despite leaving just before seven, getting to their campsite before the sun goes down may be a task. When they were planning the trip, Jim had ensured most of the trek would be along the coast, walking the beaches after the first hour or so, but there are a few cliff faces that mean steering off into the trees and that’s where the trip could turn dangerous, this time of year, with so few people going through in the winter the path could be overgrown, there would be less chance of passing people, which meant more chance of encountering wildlife, and it’s been years since Jim’s been here, not since he was Toro’s age, so who knows what else could’ve changed.

“Do you think…” Toro starts, adjusting his pack, they’ve been walking for almost an hour, and Jim can feel the wind change as they approach the coastline. They crossed the last major road not ten minutes ago, and while there was not a car in sight, Toro had made them stop twice along the roadside to photograph first the mist rising and the golden hues of the sun finally breaking the top of the trees behind them, and second to photograph a buck to which he informed Jim multiple times ‘it’s not _that_ common for them to be this close to the ocean’.

“Do you think we’ll cross any black bears?”

Jim tenses at that, looking at the teenager out the corner of his eye. He would never understand the boys need to bring up the worst-case scenarios like this. He would’ve been perfectly happy to pretend that _no, they wouldn’t_.

Toro laughs as he notices his fathers expression, motioning back towards the road, “There’s like 25-30 _thousand_ black bears in this state, pappy. And you have a higher chance—by a _lot_ —of getting killed by a serial killer than you are a bear. They’re shy. And if one does approach, that’s why we have the pepper spray.”

Jim’s still stiff, but nods anyway. He knows these things, hell, he was the one to tell Toro there were that many bears in the state before they’d left New York. But it was early, and hibernation season had just recently ended, and it made him acutely aware of how much higher the chances of them crossing one were.

“I’d love to get a photo of one for my portfolio.”

As much as he’d never admit it for fear of Toro intentionally seeking them one, Jim would love for Toro to get one for his portfolio too. He’s already going to have one that stands out compared to other students in his class, most staying within New York and the surrounding states for their assessment, but Toro’s always showed a passion for wildlife photography and Jim was more than happy to provide him with that opportunity.

The trees break and the reach the sandy shores. Without the forestry in the way, the cool air stings at their skin, and Jim pulls his coat up a little tighter around his face.

“Bit brick, fuck.”

Jim parts his lips to chastise him on his language, before snapping them shut, opting instead to take a large mouthful of his water.

Out the corner of his eye he can see Toro getting to work setting up his camera, and quickly tosses a bottle at him, “Drink, then photos.”

When Toro’s only response is an eye roll, Jim lightly kicks sand in his direction, and moves to take in the view. The sky is clear, a welcome sight for the day, with hope that as the sun continues to rise the weather will heat up.

“You took this trail when you were my age, right?” Toro breaks the silence as they begin down the beach a half hour later. “With your parents?”

“Professor Horton,” he says slowly, gaze flickering to Toro as they walk, they have an unspoken agreement to not really talk about Jim’s parents, he doesn’t remember them that well, and what he does remember wasn’t all that pleasant. “Said I came out this way as a boy with my own parents. But I don’t remember it. I have a few pictures somewhere back home; we’ll find them one day after we’re back. Professor Horton was my god father, which you know—a friend of my fathers, apparently. A business focused man, who I barely saw when we were at home until I graduated and worked in his shop and even then it was rare.”

“M’glad you’re not like that,” Toro intercepts, scuffing at a pile of leaves. “Not ‘all business no family’.”

Jim snorts and nods his head, “Me too. But I didn’t mind so much. I wasn’t the most sociable teenager,” he muses, getting a look of feigned shock from Toro. He rolls his eyes, shoving his son’s shoulder before continuing, “One day he took me out of school, we went to the airport and flew across the country. Spent a week out here, not too different to what you and I are doing, less technology, obviously, things were different twenty years ago. Better weather. It’s cliché maybe, but I was changed after that. More focused on my studies, more willing to try at life and friends. Met Steve shortly after.”

“And because you loosened up, you got my mom pregnant.”

Jim let out a noise of amusement and nods, his gaze settling on his son for a moment, “Two years later—after I graduated thank you very much. I was working at the garage. I worked on cars while Horton tinkered in the back—found out he was working with some rich guy trying to build a flying car, would you believe, not that he was successful before he passed. Pretty girl came in, no, well,” his fingers graze the side of his chin as he ponders the statement, taking a breath as he continues, “She was the most beautiful woman I ever saw in my life. Absolute firecracker of energy and laughter who took out this old polaroid camera and started taking photos of everything in the shop, including me. I flirted with her, was _clearly_ successful…saw her twice, that first time when she brought her car in and once a week later when she was driving back through. Didn’t hear from her until a year later when she showed up with this beautiful little baby claiming he was mine.”

“Why didn’t she come sooner?” Toro asks, stopping where they walk to look at his father.

“She was sick,” Jim says quietly, looking at his feet and then back at the boy—a splitting image of his mother if it weren’t for those bright blue eyes that were staring at him, waiting to hear more. “When I met her, she was fulfilling her bucket-list. I have that somewhere at home too. One of the items on the list was to ‘enjoy a night with every guy that takes my fancy’. Apparently she slept with a lot of men the week you were conceived—”

“You drew the short store and got stuck with me, huh?” Toro teases.

Jim just smiles, “When she showed up with you, your big blue eyes taking everything in so eagerly. I was terrified, of the possibility of having a kid so young and because I knew in that moment that I wanted to do everything in my power to ensure you had a good upbringing. I wouldn’t let her tell her story until we got a paternity test because I didn’t want to fall in love with this baby and then find out that he wasn’t even mine to love. Then the test came back positive and she said that she didn’t know who the father was until after your eyes cleared out. Said they were so dark when you were born she thought they’d be brown, then they cleared up this incredibly bright blue and she knew the only man who could be the father,” he shifts, taking two steps over to pull Toro into his arms, hugging him tightly into his chest.

“Don’t get sentimental on me, pappy,” Toro breaths, but there’s tears in his eyes as he returns Jim’s embrace, face tucking into his shoulder with shaken breaths. He’s waited years to hear this story, Jim had always brushed it off as something for another time.

“She only hunted me down because the cancer was catching up with her. We spent the next three months travelling between New York and her home down in Arizona. I got to officially put myself on your birth certificate and met your grandparents. Then she got too sick to travel and stayed in Arizona. And I stayed in New York with you and two months later she passed away,” Jim pulls away slowly cradling the side of his sons face, “You remind me of her, what little I knew. When you laugh and your passion for photography. Even in those last months she was always smiling, always pointing out things that would make for ‘a great centrepiece on the living room wall at your apartment, Jim’. I didn’t know her that well. Her parents didn’t like that I got custody of you after she died so I didn’t get to learn much about her from them. But I know she’d be proud of you. I know if she were around you two would be a force to be reckoned with. Anything else you wanna know about her you’ll have to keep digging from your abuela because I know whenever you visit them you hear all the stories.”

“Did you love her?” Toro asks, stepping back to wipe his eyes, not having realised he was even crying.

Jim hesitates a little, “No. Not in the way you’re asking. But I loved knowing her those few months, and I love the life she gave me, with you.”

They walk in calm silence after their talk, moving away from the beach into the trees again, picking their way east towards the path across the cliff, stopping only once for Toro to photograph a birds nest. The sun climbs the sky as the day progresses, the pair shedding their jackets as they emerge onto the beach once more. They stay longer here, Toro doing his best to remain patient as he shows his father how to utilise their surroundings for a perfectly composed photo.

He fails.

“I’m just saying, if photography were easy, everyone would do it.”

“Everyone does do it,” Toro motions to the phone in his hand.

“Not as well as you,” Toro brightens, his chest puffing in a moment of pride, and Jim smiles, pocketing his phone, “I appreciate you trying to show me. But I think this is a piece of technology I’m just not gonna get a grasp of— _god I sound so old_.”

Toro barks a laugh, turning off his camera again, “You are old.”

“I’m not even thirty-fi—”

“You turn thirty-five in November you can’t use that argument forever old man.”

“I can use it for another six and a half months, and will continue to do so until then,” Jim grumbles, giving Toro a half-hearted glare. He’s not old.

***

It’s late in the afternoon as they make their way along the final beach, later than Jim would’ve liked, but they still have time to make it inland to the campsite they have planned for before it gets too dark.

“I want to take photos of that,” Toro says, pointing to the far end of the beach, a rise of land slightly smaller than the headlands they’d been crossing, that displayed a lighthouse standing proud.

Jim clicks his tongue a little and glances at the time, “We can go tomorrow morning, if we go up there now it’ll be dark by the time we double back. I don’t want to be setting up camp in a unknown area in the dark.”

“Pappy please, it’d look incredible with the sunset behind it,” Toro presses, and Jim turns to see him giving his most wide-eyed pleading look. He sighs, and Toro lights up, knowing he’s got him.

“Okay fine. But that means we gotta make quick time across the beach…I think during the summer months it’s a tourism trap, I don’t know what you’re gonna find for photos now, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took a little while, I'm sorry. Next chapter they meet :)


End file.
